


Not the Alpha, but I can Growl like one

by TrashyTime



Series: Kinkmeme Prompt Fills [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Jaskier | Dandelion, Alpha Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Comedy of Errors, F/M, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, M/M, Multi, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Polyamory, Pregnant Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23386672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashyTime/pseuds/TrashyTime
Summary: Prompt:since there seems to be an a/b/o thing trending, i'd like to see something playing with the concept of overwhelming alpha presences and mistaken identities.i'm just charmed by the idea of everyone in an inn assuming of the two men who just came in that the one giving off all that alpha whatever (pheromones? indefineable mojo? idk your pref) has GOT to be the the big, burly, scowling one and not the bard in tights who skipped in after him.Could be natural aptitude, could be the product of nobility trying to breed for it specifically, idc. geralt being beta or omega is your choice too, it's the resultant misunderstandings that i'm into, comedic or dramatic.----In which Geralt goes through 5 scenes of everyone mistaking him for the Alpha, and then one utterly satisfying time no one can possibly mistake him for anything but Omega.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Kinkmeme Prompt Fills [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675612
Comments: 90
Kudos: 657





	1. In which there are Baths and Negotiations.

The very first stop after the annoying Alpha starts following him shows the change that will set the tone for the next decade.

The overpowering stench of raw masculinity and alpha pheromones potent enough to knock down an unwary omega at five paces reels through the doorway as Jaskier bounds at his side like an overeager puppy.

The thin man looks every part the sprightly beta, some even suspect him to be an omega, if the hushed whispers bubbling up in the tavern are anything to judge by. The tiny Alpha ignores them all as he prattles away. Geralt watches him and the room at large with a weird tension growing inside him.

The tavern keep scurries to fill his tankard, and while many alphas shift in their seats, no one throws food at the bard this time. Nor do they pick fights with the Witcher, despite that being the pervasive constant theme of over a century of visiting human towns.

It puzzles Geralt, until the fourth time it happens. The fourth time, the beer wench, gives him the piece of the puzzle he had been missing. With a soft smile the beta leans in closer and says softly, "your omega ordered you a bath, I upgraded the kit for him. On the house. It... it, I never knew you Witchers were, you know, like us. Just had to find your mate." She flushes and tries on a smile, before darting away, an extra tankard of ale at his plate. Like an apology for the same wench having charged him double and splashing half of it out onto him when grudgingly serving him, not quite eight years ago.

The words rattled in his head. Like us. The surviving Witchers, especially the Wolf School, are all omegas. And all of them hide their natures utterly. In fact they all gave up the ability and weaknesses of heats along with their fertility in the trial of grasses. All Witchers, be they Alpha or Omega by birth, were null to human noses after the Trial of Grasses.

But now, everyone was assuming, for some reason, that it was somehow not a mutation. The lack of scent was not proof of some sin against nature, but that a Witcher needed to find a mate before they scented. Or something like that.

Geralt glowered at the tankard and when Jaskier pranced across the room grinning and playing some fool song about tossing a coin to your Witcher, Geralt snagged his arm and dragged him down onto the seat beside him.

There were a few cheers and a few boos, but largely every face Geralt could spot had looks not unlike fascinated fondness being directed at them.

Like he was some newly presented Alpha teen learning how to share the attention of his mate, not a person far older than their grandfather's grandfather would be if said patriarch were somehow still alive.

He grit his teeth then leaned in towards the noble boy trying so hard to be a bard, growling lowly as he tried to smother his frustration and confusion. "They all think you are my omega."

He expected a snarl, alphan pride to smart, and a fight. Instead he got rolled eyes and a joyful laugh. "I know! It's working wonders for your reputation, I can assure you. I am quite the catch." He preened shamelessly, leaving Geralt fighting against gawking.

He snorted and growled again instead, before snapping "I am not using the thrice bedamned care basket they sent up. I suggest you explain why it isn't used." He rose swiftly, stalking towards the stairs without pause or another word. Jaskier huffed with exasperation, making his excuses as he high-tailed it to follow the much taller man out and up the stairs as well.

Geralt nearly slammed the door in his face, only stalling the impulse by imagining the uproar of the people if the "omega" showed even the faintest sign of being hurt. Instead he gave an aggrieved sigh, turning to start stripping before the still steaming tub. Jaskier threw the bolt on the door, and instead of ogling Geralt, and making the taller man's skin crawl, he instead scurried to the basket of bath supplies.

There was prattling and exclamations of delight and joy that Geralt didn't bother to pay attention to. Almond oils and chamomile lotions and something for beard burn and abrasion. Geralt couldn't care. He just wanted plain soap to be clean.

Instead, he had to put up with the least offensive of the flower pressed soaps in the combined apology basket and bonding blessing basket, though they were not bonded and never would be. The chamomile and dandelion bar made his hair shine and left his skin softer than it should be.

Jaskier nearly glistened, so moisturized was he afterwards.

Geralt rolled his eyes and the subject was dropped, even as the small gift baskets and other little gifts like it continued to show up for the smaller man. Jaskier seemed happy enough to use the omegan gifts, and it did make both their lives easier.


	2. In which an Alpha is cunning, and Geralt is confused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an Alpha decides he wants to live after all, domestic violence is mentioned and dealt with swiftly, and Geralt is totally worried about the betas and omegas. Not at all concerned Jaskier isn't in his bed every night. Really.

The stupid baskets were not any less common six months after the first. Geralt despairs ever finding another harsh lye bar, stinging and drying, in the bath water. His skin is nearly soft as any other omega's where it isn't scarred.

Geralt is annoyed to find even his scars are beginning to soften in some places. He can even feel his sword callouses softening. He can't hardly tell how anyone could possibly mistake him for the Alpha to match the overpowering pheromones, and yet... they still do.

As evidenced by the exceedingly angry little hopped up toad of a man flouncing and stomping his feet before him. "Your omega is out of LINE! Do something about him! He is, is, doing, unnatural things! With other omegas!" The way he spat unnatural was nearly entertaining, his entire face twisted with the action. The man was finely dressed, his breath reeked of decaying meat from where bits of his meal some days ago had gotten caught between his teeth and not been thoroughly cleaned away.

Geralt wanted the nasty nobleman Alpha out of his space. At the very least not so close to his face.

Jaskier and he had only split from each other’s beds when arriving in this town. He still reeked of Alpha, but not as much as he usually did. Geralt wondered idly if that was why this man was daring to snarl and snap so close to his person. Would he dare if the scent wasn’t half worn off of him? Geralt almost regretted how much he suddenly appreciated the personal space Jaskier had freed up for him by merely scenting against him each night as they slept.

Idly Geralt queried, continuing to oil down the riding tack for Roach, "What do you expect me to do about it?" He grunted the words, and made a note to talk to Jaskier about using this weird cover to slip his way into all manner of beds. It didn't sit right with him that the omegas and betas might not realize he was an alpha till after he was in their bedrooms.

Well, it wouldn't, if Geralt didn't pity whoever was saddled with this smelly oaf as their Alpha.

The man puffed up, much like a bullfrog, his eyes going wild as they bulged from an ever redder face. Sir Toady, or whatever his name was, hopped in place with a demented look on his face, before all but screaming at Geralt, "fuck him, knot him, beat him, whore him out till he learns his place, whatever it is you have to do, but keep him away from my wife!"

Geralt stilled, then he stood slowly, growling like an alpha and looming to maximum effect. "You would suggest an Alpha should beat and whore their Omega?" His voice rattled the air, eyes narrow and the leather bridle creaking in his suddenly clenched fist.

Behind him, Jaskier had entered the stables, glowering darkly at the words, his own protective alphan urges flaring to life to far outstrip any fear he might have once held at the evidence of a lord seeking retribution.

Out in the alley, a few heads were turned, the dangerous rattle of his growl combined with the heavy sparking alphan scent in the air making village alphas downwind take note.

Jaskier stalked up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Geralt as the man backpedaled quickly, eyes wide and jaw flapping without a single sound coming out.

Jaskier raised his own voice, projecting for all close by to hear. "You told my Alpha to BEAT and Whore his Omega? Is that why Dismea was so distraught? Is that what you are doing to your own wife?"

The toad like man gasped and flapped his hands as if trying to shush them, eyes huge and rolling with fear where moments before they were bugging out with rage.

Geralt growled again. The horrible little man babbled, still backing up, "no, it was an accident, I didn't mean to hit her, I swear!"

Geralt stepped forward, growling, the scent from Jaskier turning deadly bitter as it scented of closing in for the kill. Geralt’s own arms bulged, muscles tensing as he shifted to loom, well intending to back up that scent with equal violence to match the powerful rage it screamed to all that surrounded them. 

However, Jaskier grabbed onto Geralt's arm instead, and his voice rang out, "No, alpha... No, he himself just admitted he beat his omega wife. And had told you to do the same... She should have the right to his title and lands, not be saddled with a corpse and married off again. He can be given to the mercy of the village for his crimes."

There was multiple shouts of agreement, the townspeople rushing to pull the gibbering and yet thankful looking man away to be publicly shamed for harming the omega under his protection. 

Omegas were rare... and while a man could possibly beat his beta wife and only be judged a horrible lout, omegas, everyone knew, were too delicate for any harshness, needing gentleness and safety in all ways and at all times. It was the duty of every alpha, and even beta, to protect the fragile Omegas, the one truth as equal for kings as peasants. 

It was a massive crock of shit from what Geralt knew, but it galled him to think of absolutely anyone defenseless being beaten.

Jaskier watched the Alpha being dragged away, slumping into Geralt's arm. "Damn, I did not expect to get something that good to help Dismea."

Geralt stared incredulously down at the lithe and soft looking alpha before growling, "did you, PLAN this?" Geralt’s teeth squeaked from how tightly he clenched them. 

Instead of fear he got a cheeky wink from the much smaller alpha. "Something like it.” The impish smile melted as he looked down the alleyway where the nasty little noble alpha had been standing. “I can't stand to see an omega sad."

Geralt wanted to snap something, instead he blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He shook the lanky alpha off as he turned, stepping back to his stool and settling in to finish oiling the harness. Jaskier hummed and set to work currying and brushing Roach, who had warmed to the Alpha over the last few months.

Geralt watched from the corner of his eye, taking in the steady efficient motions for a long moment, then spoke up, "If you ever use this, cover you're building, for hurting someone you seduced? I won't care what people say about me when I tan your bare hide in the town square for all to see." The threat and promise of both humiliation and outing Jaskier as an or the alpha was blatant.

Jaskier, however, nodded in agreement before laughing with mischievous delight, "won't that be a sight, my knot out for everyone to see as you spank me bare." His eyes twinkle as he gives a lascivious wink.

Geralt feels something in his belly, refusing to think on the images or implications of that comment, as he snorts and focuses on his tack.

It must be indigestion. Too much alpha stench for one day, maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the enthusiasm and comments made my night- enjoy this treat, hopefully?


	3. A party and a panic too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, so chapter four should drop later tonight. 
> 
> "Damn the whole world thinking him an alpha anyways. And damn the Alpha that caused it all." Sums this up. 
> 
> Don't worry, he only means half of it.

Geralt is ready to punch someone or something til it or he is long gone.

He has been asked a hundred times in the last year when he will "get his omega with pup" or some awful variation. A full dozen of those times in the last week alone.

Geralt's chest aches and he can't even pinpoint exactly why. He knew he was sterile now. Children and a womb were not everything to being an omega.

All life, especially not on the path, did not need to include children.

Despite knowing this, he was feeling something inside him reacting as everyone and their mother, quite literally, was asking about their non-existent sex lives.

This party was supposed to be a chance to escape that, but instead Queen Calanthe, mother of the young omega Princess, and the only Omega Queen in even Geralt's lifetime, was grilling him as they sat. "If it's a matter of his own infertility, perhaps seek an orphan? They are hard work, but a child is the brightest light in any Omega's life. You're the Alpha. You should do that for your omega."

Geralt's teeth ground and he just wanted desperately for the night to be over. He grits his teeth as he hopes for any distraction at all to stop the advice pouring from the other omega’s mouth towards him on how to knock up his very alphan friend. Including seeking out another Alpha, which doesn’t at all leave him wanting to flip the table. The orphan suggestion was by far the tamest and least explicit of her words of advice, as she seemed to delight in his discomfort.

The light show and the theatrics of it all were a bit much to stomach, but easier than the constant prying he had been subjected to. Anything at all was better than more talk of children he would never have. 

Children had no place on the Path.

As the princess threw up her dinner, however, Geralt swore that destiny was laughing at him.

Calanthe howling "I did not mean MY grandchild, you damned Alpha!" At his retreating back was just icing on the shitcake that was the last half dozen years of dealing with... everything Jaskier had brought into his life.

He snarled at Jaskier who scurried after him, storming onward and out of the kingdom without looking back. He didn’t slow for Jaskier to catch up, didn’t once pause as he spurred Roach on as if escaping the howling echoes in his mind.

He didn't need a child. And the path was absolutely no place for any child. It never had been. He and his brothers were proof of that. All of them claimed via that same thrice damned invocation.

He should have known better.

It shouldn't feel like he was leaving part of his heart behind. Be it Jaskier or, whatever unborn son of surprise he was sparing the hell that was the path. Neither should make him ache so.

Damn the whole world thinking him an alpha anyways. And damn the Alpha that caused it all.


	4. How many idiots does it take to make a baby?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since chapter 3 was breaking so many hearts- may I present an early release of Yen and the really badly worded wish? It all works out wonderfully in the end- not that any one of the three idiots realizes it yet.
> 
> Mental deliberation of potential power imbalances or dubcon, though it is averted. And probably not nearly so dub even if it had played out the way Geralt was more than a little hoping it would. Down boy.

Geralt just wants, so desperately, for the yawning nagging pit in his belly to stop gnawing on him for two seconds. He wants to sleep so badly he is dredging a lake to find a djinn. It has nothing to do with how he has only felt more and more restless with every year since that one horrible night. 

Of course that thrice damned Alpha shows up. The one that got him lulled into a false sense of stability. The one that made silence on the road seem empty and hollow instead of peaceful.

The one he wanted desperately to snarl at or never let go of.

He was leaning into snarling at him, when he finally found the thrice blessed bottle and the answer to his long time brewing insomnia. The child, that ache he feels inside at the mention of the son that isn't, can't be his, makes him want to lash out again.

Of course absolutely everything went tits up not two minutes later, leaving those haunting blue eyes staring at him. Pleading silently as the other man gasped and choked on his own blood. Geralt's worst case scenario, even now. The absolute worst possible repercussion.

He caught his alpha, smelling of terror and pain and worry, carrying him was the lightest and heaviest thing at the same time. He weighed nothing to Geralt, and yet every step to Roach felt like a million pebbles were being piled on. Each gasped messy breath made Geralt snarl more.

When the healer told them so reluctantly of the mage, asking once more to look after Geralt as well, he less made the choice to leave with Jaskier in his arms than left to not have bloodshed. More bloodshed, as Jaskier coughs more blood up onto Geralt’s shirt.

Geralt was not the one dying. The scent of pained Alpha wasn't HIM.

He carried Jaskier into the castle, and then into the orgy. It was obvious everyone there was entranced and dancing on a whim not their own. Geralt barely cared. The stench of a terribly strong alpha, bored and seeking entertainment, overpowered the dozens of other alphan scents in the sweaty room.

Jaskier was deposited between three writhing betas, no omegas in this wild orgy. The town is simply not large enough to have the resources for such an honor or responsibility.

The strongest alphan pheromones was coming from the one still point in the fog covered room.

The female alpha watched him come closer, eyes narrowing and that overwhelming stench of alpha growing fivefold as she looked him over. She scented Jaskier's growing arousal and smirked, then noticed how Geralt refused to act on what she thought she was smelling- in what she was actively projecting onto everyone around her.

Her scent, if anything, picked up more intensity as she moved. "You're immune, and yet, interested." Geralt tried not to roll his eyes. A mage, of all people, should know better.

He muttered how the healer had failed to mention, trailing off, before focusing on what was really important. "We need your help."

The sly narrowing of eyes as the potent alpha female skirted her gaze over towards Jaskier, made Geralt want to growl. However he was nearly offended by her next line about hoping they were just friends.

Geralt was not an alpha, but still, having this Alpha all but size up and dismiss the omega seeming bard rankled something inside him.

The alpha mage focused on him once more, circling and smelling Jaskier all over him like a cloak. Her words needling as Jaskier's own scent of confused arousal and annoyance grew to battle with hers in the air. The smell of the two was so strong it drowned out everything else even in his own enhanced senses.

At Geralt's sarcastic reply of having the horns and fangs filed down, he felt her scent change nearly like a blow. Her arousal called to something inside him, primal reactions beyond his control.

He grit his teeth, and tried to focus her on Jaskier. His own Alpha came first. And if the cost of his cure was letting this Alpha sate her curiosity or desires with his body, so be it. Anything to not let his own foolish search for the Djinn be the death of his- of Jaskier. No price could be too high to save him. No matter what it was.

The mentioning of the djinn got her attention. And the offer of anything did seem to sweeten the pot.

Jaskier was healed, while Geralt was left in the kitchens. Her sassy comments about his horse and smell left him rolling his eyes once more. The baths would be, telling. For once he was looking forward to the moment of potential disgust that seemed to take most people when they realized how scentless he was.

A small part of Geralt wondered what she would say when a bath washed all Jaskier's scent from him.

The bath was opulent, her alphan scent growing ever stronger as Jaskier's faded from the room. Geralt found himself talking, not from a magic compulsion, but from a pure instinctive reaction to her scent.

His own body was submerged in the water, but inside he felt a strange loosening. She teased him about his sleeplessness, seeming amused by his answers, but her gaze was caught on his many scars after he tried asking what it was she would be requiring as payment.

Part of him hoped she would be satisfied with his body. Part of him hoped she just wanted something else. It had been, so very long since he had been bedded by an alpha. Not since Renfri.

She slowly moved around the massive pool, unlacing her dress. Geralt felt his own arousal building, especially as she ordered him in that alphan tone to turn around. His eyes alit on the mirror only to have her wrest it around with magic. However she didn’t turn it before he saw a glimpse of the frankly humongous cock she was sporting, hard and thick and long enough even Geralt would choke on it.

He swallows hard, finding his mouth watering. There is more banter, about cheating. A needling comment about Witchers being blessed, the innuendo being about his own massive cock, easily a match to her girth from the fleeting glimpse he had in the mirror.

It inevitably went sideways from there. Snipping back and forth, the Alpha tried to comment on his creation, he snarked about his magical childhood, and soon enough was pointing out the signs of her own failed suicide attempt.

He tried to downplay it, to make it out as somehow being about split ends. The pain in her scent morphed to biting humor, as she snarked about his coarseness and brothels.

He turned it on her. And the needling turned viciously sharper once more.

There was no lingering scent of Jaskier anymore, anywhere but his hair. And with the lack of scent her own lust seemed to have died down utterly.

He wanted her paid, however it needed to be done. But at her stating his company and conversation had been payment enough, he lifted from the water as if stung. For inside, the sleep deprived and raw omegan instincts were burned by the dismissal.

Part of him had been so eager for her touch, and as he bent to retrieve his clothes, she gasped behind him.

His teeth clenched, and he refused to cover himself, even as he knew she had to have seen him fully. Her voice calling him back was unexpected.

"I didn't say your company or conversation was over, yet." The words left his muscles tensing, his eyes flashing as he glared at her over his shoulder. Her own eyes flashed in return, the scent of her shock lingering in the air.

Omegas, after all, were far rarer than hen's teeth. Cherished and treasured. Providers of life. The heart of a community. All that bullshit that made every modern Omega some level of royalty by marriage if not birth.

And it was painfully obvious that till his dual nature was presented to her blatantly, she had never even entertained the option that he was omega. Even as the scent had washed from him, she had continued assuming.

He snarled, turning to face her square on. Her eyes traced him, the multitude of scars crisscrossed over his body like a map of the continent, ridges and valleys a timeline of his life.

Her eyes focused on his belly. On the lack of any scar to match her own across the base of it, from how her fingers traced the long thin scar she had there.

Her breath caught and he grit his teeth, jaw flexing and eyes brilliant in the reflected candlelight. "Your payment was already stated." He ground out, and while he had been more than simply amenable just moments before to the potential that she would claim the use of his body, he found the backtracking to such an arrangement grating and enraging.

Her eyes flicked over his and she smirked before tilting her head in acknowledgement. "So it was. Perhaps it is not any form of payment I seek. After all... payment is not the way these things should be treated."

Geralt smarted once more, the stinging backhand of the words reminding him of the solace he sometimes sought with beta whores. Of how he drowned his pains and needs in soft arms, spending that coin bought time never once daring to let them explore him back as he drove himself to exhaustion in their bodies.

His jaw flexed hard enough his teeth squeaked before he spun to show her his back in dismissal, moving stiffly to drag on the clothes.

She rose from the water, one soft unblemished hand touching his just below his shoulders where the muscles strained with tension. "Shh, no, I was being crude." Geralt paused, refusing to look back at her as his jaw muscles flexed.

"You need sleep. And perhaps, we can help each other. Not as a trade, but working together. Your friend can't wake, before the spell is complete. Come back to the water, with me?" Geralt swallowed, chest aching but that overwhelming scent was ratcheting higher. His inner omega wanted to nose into that scarred wrist and be soothed. He wanted to let her coax him into her arms.

It was so easy for her to guide him back, to kiss him slowly as she began to finger him open. To moan as she worked him to the first of many orgasms given on fingers and tongue in the hours that followed. His eyes fluttered as she entered him, and as she filled him to the brim with her knot held within him, he felt more like he was floating. Eyes staying closed and resting softly in her arms and in her care even as she kissed over his face so gently.

He woke, settled beside Jaskier, the bedroom dim, and Yennefer tracing his belly with an awed look on her face. Her touch was soothing and protective as her smooth fingers traced over his own scarred up and rough skin as if it was somehow precious. 

She looked up with a smile, and that fluttering feeling returned to him, the same feeling he got with Jaskier sometimes. He blinked slowly, trying to process it, as Jaskier stirred beside him.

"Oh, wow, did we, orgy for three? Damn I really wanted to remember our first time." Jaskier said, looking put out that he had missed Geralt, more than anything else.

Geralt snorted and rolled his eyes, however that warm feeling, fondness, tickled inside his belly. Yennefer gave the other alpha an exasperated look, but looked to Geralt before talking to Jaskier.

"No, you weren't involved. You'll need to talk with Geralt yourself if you want that." Geralt swallowed, but didn't dispute it.

Jaskier's eyes went wide and he nodded dazedly.

Of course, that was when the townsmen burst through the door.

In the resulting ruckus, Geralt wished they were gone, back on the road with Roach... it was shocking to realize he had been the master of the djinn all along.

That the djinn had left Yen behind was puzzling, but Jaskier and he were safe, and he knew she was too. He ignored Jaskier’s squawks, going ahead with his wishing the djinn freed despite the protests.

He let the alpha berate him as the skies cleared of a sudden storm and the djinn left them completely.

“No being likes being trapped. Especially not one taken against its will.” He intoned before he clicked his tongue to Roach and let Jaskier scramble to keep abreast with him as she slowly moved forward.

The prattling soothed part of him, and the countess and all her compatriots were not mentioned once as Jaskier rambled on about djinns and the stories around them, carrying on all by himself in spite of Geralt’s continuing silence.

It was a good day.


	5. In which Geralt catches a clue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I will never want to drag you from your choices. Even if that means that you chose to find happiness without me. I want you to have that choice. As long as you are happier... I can be a little sadder. But I don't think you are happier without me. I know I am not without you. The worst day on the path with you, is still better than a hundred decent days without you."
> 
> He pulls his head back and Geralt knows they make a fine pair, both teary as that silver tongue flays him apart with honey and sharp truths by turns.

Geralt didn't realize just how much he missed his bard until he was returned to his side. It was like having a gaping wound festering, and only realizing the agony after it was cleaned and mended.

Tales of other conquests quickly fell completely out of conversation as at the first mention Geralt went stiff and distant. He didn't mean to, he just felt... raw.

Not that he could express that into words. Yet, that easy give and take bloomed between them once more within days of the Djinn.

It was like the last decade apart had never happened. Like Geralt hadn't grown closed off, cold and bitter. Hadn’t spent more years missing Jaskier than he had with him to begin with.

The next large town, a bit over three weeks walking later, tried his patience to near snapping, however. The weird sympathy inflicted on him everywhere during that first few years after Cintra, the judgement he had weathered in equal measure with it, all had made his teeth ache.

The new songs that still cropped up in taverns, on other bards lips, rankled. Surely. But this, this was too damn much. Even his bard was looking speculatively and softly at him anytime he thought Geralt wasn’t looking at him. And Geralt wanted to start shouting at everyone to just mind their own selves.

Because everyone kept looking with wide eyes between them and nodding or bowing to Jaskier.

Offering blessings.

One person even stumbled slightly, looking dazed as they gawked.

Geralt growled at them and they hopped to move away faster than they had been moving before they froze in the first place. Jaskier, however, hummed and took it all as his due. He would preen and make a show of rubbing his belly. It made no damn sense, and Jaskier’s babbling was all nonsense as Geralt tried to puzzle out what fresh stupidity the humans thought they had figured out about them. "I mostly traveled with noble Alphas. Kept the illusion and all that." Jaskier whispered to him with a wink after having thankfully taken an offered pastry, along with wishes for his health from a dazed looking baker a street back.

As if he had performed a clever trick for Geralt to applaud. Geralt stared at the path before them, jaw working. "You should have spent the time trying to find a good partner. Someone to make a happy lifetime with." The words weren't the ones he meant to say. Not at all, but they were between them, in a dank and muddy street.

Again that soft look, the one that was almost sad, that made the nausea that was Geralt's constant companion this last few days rise copper bright on the back of his tongue.

"Do you mean that? That what you hoped was I would find someone else?" Jaskier asks softly, not brash or playing the fool but watching his face and seeing too much. It burns and he wants to snap and snarl, but every time he remembers how Jaskier had looked at him with so much trust even as he choked on his own blood.

So much hurt, because Geralt had tried to shove him away.

Because the one common thread in all the tales of Djinn Jaskier knew was that making even a single wish was always disastrous for the wisher. And he had tried so hard to jump in and wish all the wishes out.

He had played it off as selfishness, but Geralt knew, deep in his bones that is the last thing it was.

"Geralt?" His alpha leaned closer, hand resting on his wrist and alphan concerned worry was swamping the air so thick it was choking. Geralt tried to snort, but it stuck in his throat. Instead he grit out, "You deserve something better than the harshness of the path." The words were barely done being forced from his mouth before he set to marching his way towards the inn.

Roach was taken by a sympathetic and concerned looking Alpha, and on opening the door to the inn, the entire main crowd inside the room changed through a dozen emotions on their faces before settling on that same concerned worry. All the gazes looked to Jaskier who, instead of cavorting off to earn coin, had rucked himself up into Geralt's side and shadow as if hiding there.

The innkeeper was solemn and weathered. A truly ancient old man. The bar wench was more leaning towards crone than maiden, not comely in the least now, but her tone as she came closer was familiar. The woman that had sent them up with that bonding basket the very first time it happened, looked aged before his eyes.

A tired sadness and aching hope sparkled there in her eyes, an echo of the kindness she had tried to show them both so long ago. She set a key on the counter before Geralt, before he could even start to say anything. "Here, on the house, since it isn't being used now. Straight up and at the end. I'll bring up stew and a few boards. You focus on getting him settled, there is a bath in the hallway you can bring in for him too, we’ll get it filled right smart." She turned to leave and Geralt's brow furrowed in confusion.

Jaskier gently tugged Geralt to the side "lets just go up, please Geralt?" Geralt stared, concerned as Jaskier's own smell grew more concerned and protective.

"But without payment, what do they want instead?" Jaskier looked infinitely sadder at the question, squeezing Geralt's arm instead as that nausea suddenly rose to try at choking Geralt once more.

Geralt took the key in a firm grip, not borrowing more trouble, and allowed Jaskier to herd him up the stairs. For all it looked to others like he was the one herding the smaller man, his arms were both being held and gently tugged forward as guidance.

He let Jaskier open and settle the room, grabbing the bath with ease to move into the room, settling it before the fireplace just as the older woman came in with a large cauldron of hot water to tip into it, a few strapping alphas, her adopted sons, grandsons and apprentices it seemed from the smells of them, helping.

There was a somber mood as the potent scent of Jaskier's protective worry and concern swamped the room, though Geralt was still confused about what caused it.

The Alpha himself huddled on the bed, looking small and tired as the other alphas all filtered into the room. A few looks at where Geralt was watching them like a hawk, protectively standing between Jaskier and them, seemed to settle something for them.

"We hope you both can rest well. Recover. This is no time for the stresses of the road." The old woman began, before sighing a little as she shooed all the others out. She looked up into Geralt’s eyes as she kept talking in the doorway.

"I know you both had your troubles. It does an old heart good to see hope, especially in these trying times. You both rest. It isn't every day a pregnant omega graces our town with blessings... and it would be a bigger fool than any would conscience, to damn us by letting any harm come to him while he's in his very first like this. Especially not when you had to have worked so hard to get him a cure."

She reaches as if to pat Geralt's shoulder, making Geralt want to snarl at her, before shaking her head with a tired and rueful smile. “I am glad that you finally can know some peace, Witcher. I know it seems so hard- especially with no castle to protect him with. You aren’t alone, not in this, and not anymore.” She says it softly and warmly, nodding to herself as she turns and closes the door behind herself. Left behind in the room is over a half dozen boards with chopped vegetables and different cheeses and fruits, as well as a few small candle warmed pots of stews and porridges.

It made no damn sense. None of it made any sense. Geralt spun to Jaskier, who was sitting up as if nothing was the matter now. As if he knew whatever was going on. Whatever madness this was.

"What the fuck?" He growled, as Jaskier slipped past him to bolt the door and settle his own cloak along the crack at the bottom.

Things were still not adding up, and Geralt felt like screaming curses to the sky or yelling at Jaskier to explain what chicanery he had gotten up to. Instead as he opened his mouth, the combined smells of foods and frustration he felt left him bending towards the bucket one of the young alphas had left behind, his stomach heaving as it emptied itself of the meager scraps of meat from yesterday's solitary scrawny hunted rabbit after the supplies had run out on the road.

Jaskier gathered his hair, rubbing his back in a way that should have been demeaning but instead was only soothing. Like Geralt was some child that could be upset by vomit.

Even after the bile was all that was coming out, he was gagging, till Jaskier swapped the buckets, covering the dirty one with a dampened cloth.

Jaskier kept the soothing motions along the muscles beside his spine as Geralt gripped the rim of this clean bucket, testing if his stomach was done trying to escape or not. The next words made Geralt look up at him, shocked and trying to rectify what they were saying with his own understanding of the entire world.

"Figures that you're having this hard of a time with it. The first is always the hardest, they're right on that. Especially with how often you go through hard times and scarcity." The words make no sense.

Nothing makes sense. His head throbs, and he very much wants to find whoever put this curse on him and gut them, but as he opens his mouth more retching erupts, though no more bile comes up.

Jaskier makes sympathetic soft sounds, the continued rubbing slowly relaxing his muscles even as his mind howls at the impossibility of what all this must mean. Omega. Pregnant. First time. The first season is roughly one month after conception.

To bind the omega to an alpha and ensure safety of the unborn child. To draw in and secure protectors. To be ready for when the omega will eventually be entirely unable to protect themselves, goes the popular narrative.

To prevent them from going completely feral if anything threatens them during the key hormonal periods that happen late in pregnancy is the grim reality. "How the fuck am I pregnant?" He spits the words as soon as the heaving passes.

Jaskier gives a wry look and then chides "the 2 person orgy with that mage, ring any bells?" Geralt's eyes widen and his hands splinter the wood at the top of the bucket, so hard are they gripping. He heaves and can not breathe, frozen in that moment of horrified realization.

Jaskier's own gaze goes sharp and his scent simmers with brewing anger, "Geralt, did she, force you? Make that her payment?" His voice is so soft, but the scent says that mage or no, he would try to rip her balls off if he found that to have been the case. 

Geralt startles at that, blinking then scrunches his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut. "Fuck. No. It, wasn't payment or trade. Just, comfort. Helping each other together. She was adamant that I could say no. But I am STERILE Jaskier. All Witchers are."

Jaskier stares at him then repeats "I just want some peace" to himself under his breath.

Geralt gawks at him, then at the room, given up so peacefully and an entire town that even if they knew it was him they were protecting, would fight to the death to protect his safety right this moment.

"Fuck." Geralt's head hangs as Jaskier laughs, in a way that somehow doesn’t feel mocking for all Geralt feels a complete fool, slowly undoing Geralt's braids and hair for washing.

"It's not fucking funny, Jaskier" he snarls and snaps, while Jaskier for a change in pace, is the one snorting. His hands stay gentle even as his words dance and harry Geralt in that way that helps him settle. Not quite teasing him. Something he can grasp onto, mentally.

"It both is and isn't. You ran so hard from your child surprise and the idea of a family, that you ran right into having both a different way.” The teasing softens into something more honest and tender. “You can't fight Destiny. She will always get her due, Geralt."

Geralt snarled at the mention of destiny, rolling his eyes, but focused on setting aside the bucket and stripping instead. The bath water would cool with or without them using it, and right now he desperately needed the soak to not storm out of here and avoid the whole thing altogether.

Jaskier, always surprising Geralt in new ways, stopped all his teasing just when Geralt could take no more, instead settling in to start cleaning and caring for Geralt's hair, as if this routine also hadn't stopped for over a decade.

Geralt watched him as he tended his hair and then said testily, "you don't seem surprised by my being an omega." He eyed the alpha only to get a roll of those sunflare in a blue sky eyes in return.

"Oh yes, because humans are always dumb. To be fair, I thought I was mistaken when the Elf king called you "source of many flowers" and "wilted" in Eldar, but no, a few months later, you got a little careless while high during the process of fighting off some monster venom, and basically rubbed the proof on my hand while wiggling and squirming to try to stop the full body itching. I was ever so glad you didn't remember that embarrassment when morning came." Geralt's jaw dropped and he gawped at his alpha in horrified shock.

"Why the hell didn't you say anything, then?" He demanded, shifting in the tub with enough force to make the water slosh and slop the edges.

Jaskier flicked the edge of his shoulder, fearless of retribution and showing the same affectionate disregard for social norms as when Geralt assumed the alpha had also assumed he too was an alpha.

"Because, oh spiller of bath water, it made no difference. I already had feelings for you as an alpha. What difference did your being omega make, except it meant you were in even more danger, and had gone through even more pain. You didn't want to acknowledge it. So why would I make you do that?"

His hands trailed gently over Geralt's hair, cradling the silver white strands in his palms as he continued speaking softer still. "I cared for you, loved you, too much to hurt you needlessly. I knew my heart was yours before I even knew you were omega. It was all I could do not to tell you, some days." His wistful and sad tone only made the words more maddening.

Geralt turned, uncaring of the dismayed sound Jaskier made at his hair slipping into the sloshing water. His own shock and boiling emotions made him half roar, "then why did you let me run you off!? Why did you always go to all those, those women?!"

Jaskier slid his hand gently down Geralt's cheek, and looked deep into Geralt's eyes. "There are two answers to that, both true. As you yourself said recently, no being enjoys being caged. And, more importantly... while I didn't want to hurt you, I also grew tired of hurting myself. I was too young to understand exactly how to communicate, to build a relationship, and so when you rode off in Cintra, I went to bury my own heart in anything I could to soothe the ache."

Geralt's chest heaved as if he were fighting for each breath, drowning in a single cauldron full of water. He stared at Jaskier and the words spilled out like water from a half drowned man, dribbling across his lips without will or want besides the need for more air with them gone.

"And now, now with another Alpha's child in me, and my life in shambles? Now?" Geralt felt like he was a child again, searching for his mother's carriage and his fate was stretching and warping before him.

Jaskier leaned in, heedless of the water ruining his fancy silk as he gathered Geralt into a hug, half laying over the tub to press Geralt against his chest and soothe the trembles Geralt only noticed were rattling him as they abated. "All that has ever mattered to me, was you were happier. If that was with me, then it was the best I could hope for. I love you. I will love your children, be they by blood or law of surprise. Wherever you go, I will also want to go. Nothing can, or ever has changed that."

He presses a kiss to Geralt's scruffy cheek, as Geralt's own arms come up to crush him closer still, half dragging the smaller man into the bath fully clothed.

"I will never want to drag you from your choices. Even if that means that you chose to find happiness without me. I want you to have that choice. As long as you are happier... I can be a little sadder. But I don't think you are happier without me. I know I am not. The worst day on the path with you, is still better than a hundred decent days without you."

He pulls his head back and Geralt knows they make a fine pair, both teary as that silver tongue flays him apart with honey and sharp truths by turns.

Geralt swallows hard then, with all the love in his heart choking his throat, he kisses Jaskier like he is everything he ever wanted.

His chest heaves and there is no real thought to them moving to the bed. Fine blue silk is reduced to rags, and as their bodies slide together they mark and bond each other for their entire lives. Till the day one of them dies, that connection will burn bright and strong and true.

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt link: https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=172205
> 
> If you are OP please let me know so I can gift this to you. As always, comments are the fuel which helps me keep creating.


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